The Alarms are Sounding
by Channel D
Summary: Fornell arrives at NCIS just as alarms go off. Employees are in a panic. Short one-shot drama written for the NFA Our FBI Favorite: Agent Fornell challenge.


**The Alarms are Sounding**

**by channelD**

written for: the NFA _Our FBI Favorite: Agent Fornell!_ challenge

_rating:_ K plus

genre: drama

- - - - -

_disclaimer_: I own nothing of NCIS.

- - - - -

FBI senior special agent Tobias Fornell had just cleared security at the NCIS building when the alarms went off. He looked around in surprise—was it something he had done? No, he'd gone through the same routine as always: showed his badge, removed his sidearm and placed it in the tray along with his pocket change and cell phone, been wanded down because of the metal in his belt buckle. One of the two guards (who changed often) even recognized him and had nodded to him pleasantly.

But this wasn't a security point alarm, Fornell quickly realized. This was more of an all-points alarm, as was evidenced by NCIS employees suddenly pouring out of doorways here on the first floor, and come down the steep stairs from the second and third floors in haste. Fear showed on many faces.

"No running! _No running!"_ someone called. No one really was _running_, but they were moving quickly, and there was a palpable sense of moderate panic.

Fornell flattened himself against a wall as people streamed by him. He considered asking a guard what was going on, but didn't want to distract the man from his duties, keeping the people moving. _What in the name of Sam Hill could be causing this? It doesn't look like a call to a picnic; that's for sure._

He didn't see anyone he knew. Maybe the agents were going out another exit; maybe they were staying behind to protect something, like data or equipment or their precious MTAC. He remembered that back when he was in school, the civil defense drills had the older students stand in the hallways bravely, heads held high, while the younger ones sat on the floor, covering their heads. As if either method would really save them if the bomb had really dropped.

"Agent, uh, Fornell," one of the guards finally called to him, "you should really leave, sir. We're not open for business at the moment."

_An interesting way of putting it._ No, Vance probably had other things on his mind right now than his 1 o'clock appointment with Fornell. He waited until the stream of evacuees had lessened, and then moved out with the flow.

It was a mild day for November; temperatures near 60, and the south-ranging sun cast thin shadows through the milky clouds. People had gathered in Willard Park, across the street in large clusters. _They must all have designated meet-up points, by job section,_ he thought. _A good plan._ Strolling across the street, moving not as quickly as the others, he noticed that in each group someone with a clipboard was taking attendance.

One group, though, seemed a little different. While people in the other groups seemed to have pulled themselves together and looked a little less fearful, one knot of five people, standing near a large anchor in the park, were almost in tears. No one seemed to be in charge of them.

Fornell's managerial instincts took over, and he walked up to them, showing his badge. "Fornell, FBI. You folks okay?"

"I—we—something's going on, and no one will tell us!" a woman cried. "Our supervisor, Mitzi, isn't in today. Is there a bomb in the building? No one will tell us!!"

"I left my plants in there!" cried another woman, suddenly remembering. "My son gave me one of those plants before he left for Iraq—"

"Hang on," said Fornell, gently restraining her. "You can't go back in yet. I'm sure your plants will be fine."

"What—what do you think is happening, Agent Fornell?" asked a man who looked grim. "Do you think there's a terrorist attack?"

Fornell pulled out his cell phone to make sure it was still on. There were no new messages. "No, kid; I don't. Something big, and I would've been summoned back to my office. Whatever has caused this…is assuredly something done for your own safety, but which will probably sort itself out shortly. What division are you guys in?" That question was more to put them at ease.

"Accounting," said a man.

"That's good. You people are important," Fornell said heartily, pushing aside all the times he'd chewed out an FBI accountant who had questioned his expense report. "So let's add things up, pardon the pun. Do you see people having evacuated other buildings here in the Yard?"

The five accountants looked around. "No," said one petite, mouse-like woman, almost in a whisper.

"Then that must mean…" Fornell prompted, but the five-some was still too shell-shocked to reason.

"…that the emergency affects only NCIS, and not any other buildings," Fornell supplied. "What do you make of that?"

"That NCIS has lots of enemies?"

"That the emergency doesn't affect all of the Yard, or the District."

"Yes!" said Fornell. "It could be a fire in a wastebasket, or an infestation of fleas...that happened in one of our offices a few months ago...or something else minor but still annoying, and necessitating an evacuation."

"Where are the agents?" persisted the plant woman. "They're supposed to protect us!"

Fornell doubted that _Protecting the accountants_ was in the NCIS special agent job description, but he didn't say that. "I think you'll find—"

"_All clear!"_ called a man at the NCIS entrance, through a bull horn. _"Please reenter the building and return to your duty stations. Have your IDs ready to show the guards."_

"I guess we should go in," said one of the men. "Thank you, Agent Fornell." The others also murmured their thanks, which Fornell accepted with a smile as they headed back across the street.

- - - - -

"So, what did you think of our little demonstration?" Vance asked Fornell about 20 minutes later as the two of them sat in his office.

"Effective," said Fornell. "It took me a bit to guess that it was probably really was a drill, as you had warned me, yesterday. Unlike Gibbs, I _do_ believe in coincidences. It could have been something real."

Vance shrugged. "The agents made it out the back okay. How did the support staff do out front?"

"Compared to the FBI's drills, reasonably well. My people have almost gotten blasé about it, though, so we'll have to start shaking them up. Send them out in a snowstorm, or in the middle of a holiday party, maybe. But there was too much fear among your staff. It only would take one or two people to start running to cause a stampede, and have someone get trampled."

"We'll work on _calm and orderly,_ then. We can afford to shave off a minute or two as long as everyone gets out safely. Thanks for helping out, Tobias. An experienced outsider's perspective is invaluable." He rose with the FBI agent and they shook hands.

Fornell grinned. "My pleasure. Once an FBI Safety Officer, always an FBI Safety Officer."

-END-


End file.
